He She They

She looks at me with so much pity in her eyes, a pretty princess
Everything that she does is right
Confident in her speech and her skills and loved by a family that makes her feel fulfilled
She never drifts too far from the light
Her ride through life is exciting and flirty
Even when death looks her in the face sternly
An inherent beauty with lips that drop roses

In comparison to a callous oaf like me
Bumbling and clumsy, in my mind and my body, not one ounce of elegance to be found with feet that are so heavy
Butter fingers and dyslexic signifiers make my back hunch up, my shoulders hang stiff
Unattractive anger that I attained through shame and life experiences
A gruff voice that lacks emotional direction or appeal, with a hairy chin to match all of this masculine zeal
My ride through life has changed slightly, not so much flirtatious but now ridden with anxiety

You see, she is me and I am her

We both combine to make they because your definitions are not enough for me

Much like a holy deity

I am free from all sexuality

Not necessarily my sensuality, that has always been owned by me and she
We are the masters of this budding flower known as ‘My Pussy’
So don’t think you could ever take my sexuality from me

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